Collective Dreaming
by cheesecakeplz
Summary: Arthur, despite his inclination to cold facts and crippling logic, was a firm believer in true love. Ariadne, despite her affection of bending reality and twisting minds with unsolvable mazes, was not. Arthur/Ariadne oneshot collection.
1. Un jour cet air me rendra folle

_I see the succession of gestures flash by  
__all the comedy of love  
__to this tune that keeps playing  
_**Padam Padam**

**Note**: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, 'Padam Padam' belongs to Edith Piaf

* * *

**1.**

Arthur, despite his inclination to cold facts and crippling logic, was a firm believer in true love.

Ariadne, despite her affection of bending reality and twisting minds with unsolvable mazes, was not.

The entire idea of true love was a fantasy created from the mind of a person who took Disney movies as a way of life to Ariadne, and always had been. Her friends called it denial, but the fact of the matter was she simply _did not_ _believe_ _it_ and constantly made her roll her eyes to think others could even begin to think up such a ridiculous concept. "End of story," She would say.

It never was.

Ariadne accredited her doubt to the fact her parents had divorced when she was seven, and certainly not in the most favorable of ways.

Arthur had grown up watching his film actress aunt's movies and, later, Cobb and Mal's relationship. Even the disturbing consequences of the latter didn't sway him.

His belief was solidified in the midst of a mission, one precisely ten months after the successful inception. Unprofessional, yes, but when Ariadne quite literally took a bullet for him, all hope for a strictly businesslike relationship died a very immediate death. Arthur's mind had been caught between the ideas of _was that a mistake, maybe she just happened to move her shoulder in front of my head _and _jesus christ she's been shot _as Ariadne slid to the floor, pressing one palm to the wound_._

The glass windows shattered above as their mark's projections drew closer, armed to the teeth. Eames was shouting something from across the room, something that looked to Arthur like _what the bloody hell was that, _and for once, Arthur had no answer.

"Great, now I've screwed everything up. That was stupid." She had said, choking out what must've been intended to be a laugh while her eyebrows knitted with pain. Arthur shook his head, petting her hair clumsily. "No, no. It's fine, you're okay. It's okay." He had lied, something he seldom did. Ariadne shifted in his grip, her breath hitching with the effort of movement. "We'll go another level down and it'll be okay."

Her eyes had been trusting and her hands had been clammy. Arthur's heart had hammered in his chest, a sensation he assumed was not entirely spawned from adrenaline. Gunfire drowned out Eames's questions. Arthur pulled Ariadne from the line of fire and then proceeded to shoot at their mark's projections until his revolver ran out of bullets.

The situation had been anything but romantic.

The second level had been a ballroom, as dancing had been a favourite pastime of their mark. Ariadne's eyes had not left Arthur's from the moment they locked from across the room and she couldn't remember for the life of her why that was until the stabbing pain in her shoulder made itself known. She stumbled out of the room to find the safe before anything remotely intimate could take place.

Arthur stared at Ariadne for several long minutes once they woke. Ariadne forced herself to meet his gaze, one hand still attempting to rub the scathing pain from her arm. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm a good team player or something, I don't know." Ariadne muttered in return, willing the blush to fade from her cheeks and feeling as though she were fourteen again, a foolish teenager with overreactive hormones.

"You took a bullet for me."

"Why, darling, that's awfully dramatic of you to say!"

"Shut up, Eames." Arthur's eyes flickered back to Ariadne, who was motioning to stand with one hand drifting for her totem. "You could have just let it wake me up. It wouldn't have compromised the plan much."

"Yeah, it was stupid, we established that earlier. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go design a better maze for our next assignment. One with bulletproof windows and cleaner bathrooms and...useful stuff like that." With that, the girl shakily rose to her feet and left the train compartment, tugging her jacket over her shoulders as she went. Arthur stared after her. Eames gave a clearly over-dramatized sigh as he unhooked their subject from the PASIV.

"Ah, young love."

"Shut up, Eames."

**2**.

It was several weeks later that Arthur decided to make an effort with Ariadne. They had been pointedly ignoring each other for days, and it had gotten to the level where even Yusuf could recognize something was up during their celebratory bar night. "The major hint," Eames had wisely said, "was the not talking, one would suppose."

"Hello, Ariadne."

"Arthur. Hey."

The first words were not conversational, only mere recognitions that the other existed. Arthur sipped at his drink, some nonalcoholic beverage that shoved him into the position of designated driver. Ariadne claimed to have an early class the next morning and refused any sort of liquor that Eames had threw at her, so a coke was her drink of choice.

The two watched Yusuf go into a major air-guitar secession on the karaoke stage, Eames laughing uproariously nearby as he waved what looked like a fifty pound note in the air. Ariadne cleared her throat.

"So, what do you think you'll do next? Y'know, after this whole mission."

Eames had joined Yusuf on the stage just in time for an off-tune duet. Arthur paused, sipping at his drink as he thought.

"I think I'll visit Cobb after a few weeks. See Phillipa and James, stay under the radar, that sort of thing." He glanced to the brunette at his side and half-smiled. "You?"

"I dunno, really. I'm probably so far behind in college that I shouldn't bother going back, but my parents will suspect if I don't finish my degree and everything, so..." Ariadne let the statement hang in the air—an unfinished, weasel-word answer—and shrugged, allowing her gaze to wander around the room. Arthur muttered a nearly silent 'oh' of conclusion, sitting up slightly to view his teammates' performance. The sight nearly made him grimace and he turned back to Ariadne, floundering again for conversation he had not planned—a frustrating side-effect of chatting with Ariadne.

"You're going to major in Architecture, right?"

Ariadne raised her eyebrows, looking as if Arthur had just said one of the most moronic things he ever had in his life—which, considering the circumstances, he probably had. She answered anyway, barely fighting off a smile; "Yeah. Yeah, I am. That is, if the college will accept me back." The brunette chuckled and took a sip of her soda, smirking over the rim at the Point Man.

More silence, save for the sound of Eames falling off the stage, drunken laughter from the small crowd he and the Chemist had gathered, and said Chemist going into yet another foreign song without a karaoke track to mute it. Ariadne snorted into her cup, trying desperately to prevent outwardly giggling at the scene. Arthur just exhaled a breath of exasperation and he thanked the bar's dim lighting for hiding the blush that rarely came to his cheeks.

Yusuf sang for what seemed like hours. Eames risked being expelled from the bar twice. Arthur pointedly ignored them both.

"Hey, Arthur; two jobs in a row like the ones we've just done...that's unusual, right?" Ariadne said after a while, her voice low as she glanced at the immaculately dressed man to her right. Arthur nodded promptly and his reply was automatic, "Yes, but not unheard of. These two jobs were connected; if they hadn't been, I would have been suspicious." Ariadne nodded in understanding and began to finish off her drink. "It was worth the price of one assignment, but I'm not complaining. I'm not in it for the money anyway." The information had slipped, awkward and hurried, before the Point Man could think the better of revealing something so personal to the Architect beside him.

The girl merely blinked in surprise for a moment and gave a quiet 'oh' before turning back to her cup. Arthur cleared his throat, unsure whether to be offended or pleased at her somewhat unenthusiastic response. After all, wasn't this the girl that had all but forced Cobb to spill his secrets?

Arthur rose to his feet and prepared to drag Eames away from his sixth pint. It was all he could do to keep the foreign feeling of jealousy from his mind.

Ariadne's curious stare was entirely missed by the Point Man as he strode away from the bar.

* * *

a/n: This is just a series of cheesy oneshots put together to form a half-comprehensible storyline, and I plan to add onto it later. It was inspired by 500 Days of Summer, as you can probably tell; the idea of making Arthur into a hopeless romantic was too adorable to pass up, but I'm not too good at writing fluff/humor. I hope it was somewhat enjoyable?


	2. Écoutez le chahut qu'il me fait

_I see the succession of gestures flash by_

_all the comedy of love_

_to this tune that keeps playing  
_**Padam Padam**

**Note**: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, 'Padam Padam' belongs to Edith Piaf

* * *

Their second kiss was nothing like their first in the lobby of a hotel in a dream. It was not '_quick, gimme a kiss_', it was not brief, and it had no sense behind it.

It was only the same as the first in the way it was rushed. Entirely too rushed.

Arthur had been waiting for the coffee to brew, frowning at the old machine's complete lack of efficiency. The break-room had been entirely silent save for the coffee's bubbling for five and minutes and twenty seven seconds. Arthur had straightened his tie. Ariadne had stepped inside. "Hey, Arthur." The Architect muttered, glancing up to meet Arthur's eyes before heading over to the dingy fridge across from the coffee maker. The Point Man inclined his head once in greeting, his hands going to his pockets. He cleared his throat. "Ariadne."

After fishing out a tupperware box full of what looked like pasta, Ariadne smiled and straightened up. "How's the research coming along?"

"Oh, it's great. Thank you for asking." Arthur answered quickly, hoping the long pause between her question and his answer hadn't annoyed her. Ariadne hummed in mild interest while placing the tupperware into the microwave, pressing three buttons on the equally ancient machine.

"...I heard you saw Cobb a little while ago?"

"Yes, I did. He sends his regards."

"That's nice of him."

"Mmhm. Cobb is a good man."

"He really is."

The coffee maker's dripping and the microwave's incessant noise made the following lull in conversation only more prominent.

Ariadne repeated her last statement quietly, '_really is_' under her breath, struggling to fill the silence. Arthur just forced a smile and nodded.

The coffee dripped twice.

And suddenly it was as if a string had snapped, and the two Dreamers spun around to crash their lips onto each others'. Neither of them had initiated such an action—it had been a random, instinctual act of passion for both. Ariadne's fingers tangled into Arthur's hair. Arthur's hands locked around the brunette's waist as they leaned back against the countertop. The kiss deepened. Rapid words too fast for comprehension were shared. Hands roamed. Several blissful minutes.

Arthur was the first to pull away. Their lips parted with a near-silent smacking noise.

Ariadne blinked twice before the microwave beeped to announce the food was done, but she hardly noticed. The coffee maker clicked to signify the coffee had been made; Arthur glanced once to it and frowned, but his gaze soon wavered and returned to Ariadne.

"Um." The Point Man whispered intelligently, his voice hoarse.

Ariadne opened her mouth to say something, but the colour rose to her cheeks faster than her thought could collect themselves and she turned and walked—quickly—out of the cramped break-room.

Eames smirked lazily over the rim of his teacup as she passed. "Arthur makes some good coffee, hmm? One might even go so far as to call it-"

"Eames I do _not_ want to hear anything you have to say leave me alone." Ariadne answered in a rush as she took her seat at her desk and hastily began scribbling down maze designs. She hated the way her hair must look, the way her cheeks flushed red, the way Eames was wiggling his eyebrows at her from across the workspace, the way Yusuf blinked obliviously about from behind oversized goggles.

She saw Arthur leave the break-room a minute after. He casually took his seat and brushed a hand over his tousled hair, smoothing it back into place as if nothing had happened.

Most of all, Ariadne hated the way she hadn't said anything afterward, just like last time.

Neither of them did.

* * *

A/N: Aw, romantic tension is so cute, I love it. Heehee.

Review, if you'd be so kind! Reviews help me write because I'm ridiculous that way. :D


	3. Et sa voix couvre ma voix

_I see the succession of gestures flash by_

_all the comedy of love_

_to this tune that keeps playing  
_**Padam Padam**

**Note**: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, 'Padam Padam' belongs to Edith Piaf

* * *

Neither of them could entirely remember how they had ended up there. The result of their inexperienced Chemist's faulty compounds, perhaps—Yusuf had returned to Mombasa for a cousin's wedding and they were forced to replace him on short notice—or maybe it was due to Eames's accidental slip in disguise that had alerted the projections to their presence.

Neither Ariadne nor Arthur wanted to admit being the one who had sent them both to Limbo.

The sea was so cold it stung. Arthur yanked Ariadne none too forcibly from it just before a second wave hit, their minds still reeling from the previous flashes of violence. Ariadne allowed him to pull her to her feet in a compliant haze.

As soon as they reached dry land, Arthur swore aloud. He kicked a crumbling building. His hair was falling from the gel's hold, covering portions of his face, and he instinctively pushed it back into place with one hand before swearing again, this time louder. His face was pale.

Ariadne hugged herself as she stared at the Point Man pacing back and forth. The sound of gunshots still rang in her head, making it near impossible to sort out her thoughts. Only two things would come to mind. One; She was in Limbo and it did not look any different than it had the last time she had been sent here.

Two; Arthur was with her.

By the time the blaring noise faded from her ears and Arthur stopped pacing, her hair was dry. Arthur handed his jacket to her anyway and took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." His voice was quiet with a tone close to embarrassment. Ariadne shook her head once—a jerky, uneven movement that bothered Arthur more than it should've. "No, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

They stood for a long while simply staring at each other, Ariadne picking at her scarf and Arthur with his hands in his pockets.

"Do you remember what we should do?" The question Arthur had never wanted to ask. Ariadne scrambled for an answer, attempting to throw herself back to a time when she and Cobb had wandered through the dilapidated streets—

"We wait for a Kick."

Arthur's chest tightened. "Oh."

Ariadne shrugged, glancing away from the Point Man's gaze as she did so. "Well, it's what I did."

More silence. Arthur blew out a frigid breath and slumped into a bench; Ariadne sat beside him and resumed hugging herself. Somewhere in the course of Limbo's warped time frame, Arthur reached over to hold the Architect's hand, and Ariadne leaned her head on his shoulder.

They were trapped there for what felt like eight and a half years, and, eventually, the only reality they knew became each other.

* * *

a/n: I've always wondered what was so bad about Limbo. It seemed like an okay enough place to me in the movie, but maybe I'm missing something?

On another note, RIP Joseph Gordon-Levitt's brother, whose name is Dan if memory serves correctly. My thoughts are with him and his family.

Thanks so much for all the kind reviews, they're much appreciated!


	4. Des toujours qu'on achète au rabais

_I see the succession of gestures flash by_

_all the comedy of love_

_to this tune that keeps playing  
_**Padam Padam**

**Note**: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, 'Padam Padam' belongs to Edith Piaf

* * *

"Do you question reality a lot, Arthur?"

He turned to stare at her, eyebrows raised. Her back was turned, but he could see the way she clutched her totem as a lifeline.

He wanted to lie and shake his head—knowing this would no doubt reassure her that _one_ of them was sane even if that one wasn't her—but instead he found the toxic words; "Yeah, too often," slipping out of his mouth.

Ariadne rolled over to face him, her chin propped onto her hand. Dark eyes were looking him over for a fraction of a second before the gaze drifted away distractedly toward the ceiling. "My totem keeps telling me it's not a dream, and I know it's not, but sometimes I...don't really believe it, if that makes any sense."

It did. It made all too much sense.

Arthur cleared his throat. The panic was difficult to stifle. "When did this start?"

The Architect gave a near-silent sigh and allowed herself to recline into the pillows, thinking dutifully on the subject. "Not long ago. A few days after...well, Limbo, I guess." She tilted her head to his angle and smiled—it didn't reach her eyes. "You sound like a psychiatrist or something."

"It was what I used to do. Now, how does this make you—"

Ariadne laughed aloud, only quieting at Arthur's stare. When she glanced down to his hands and noticed they had gone as white as the sheets, her expression went downright solemn. She reached forward and entwined their fingers together between them.

The rain was bucketing down outside. Arthur had always hated English weather.

"I'm just finding it hard to believe that things could be so..." Ariadne said, gesturing into the air as if to catch the word floating around, "...perfect, really. Everything I want is right here."

Those words, foolishly enough, made Arthur want to smile, but instead he settled for nodding and gripping Ariadne's hand a little tighter. They were cold. "Understandable. Dreams often fill in our subconscious desires in ways like this."

"I can't imagine being so pleased with a relationship. It almost doesn't feel real."

And suddenly it was difficult to speak. Arthur had to clear his throat again.

"Under...understandable." He repeated dully, stumbling over the syllables, using all his levelheadedness for his appearance rather than his words. Ariadne hummed in agreement. He continued, feeling his pulse pick up in speed. "But isn't it possible to just have a good relationship without questioning its validity?"

Ariadne glanced up from tracing a maze into the sheets. Her lips were quirked upward in an almost amused expression. "Probably not."

The Point Man moved closer, frowning. "What makes you say that?"

The Architect shrugged. "It just seems odd to me that two people like us could stay in love for so long."

Ariadne's eyes trailed back to the starchy bedspread. Arthur's eyebrows knitted together. The words had stung. "So you think," He began, taking in a deep-breath mid sentence, "that this relationship between us is...odd." It hadn't been a question. Ariadne shook her head and sat up to press her lips to Arthur's cheek.

"The only thing that bothers me about it is the perfection. It's just so ideal that it's difficult to—"

Arthur broke off her explanation with a rushed, sloppy kiss too much like their second. A train bellowed in the distance.

"Always, always remember," He said as they broke apart, breathing somewhat heavily, "never question reality until you have a legitimate reason to. Not remembering how you got somewhere, your totem doesn't work correctly, or—"

"Or paradoxes. We can't forget those." Ariadne interrupted with a smirk as she smoothed back the Point Man's hair. He smiled back and let his forehead rest against hers.

"Paradoxes, too, yes."

Ariadne laughed. "Well, if this _is_ a dream and as cheesy as this sounds, I'm not entirely sure I'd want to wake up."

Arthur wasn't sure whether to be ecstatic or worried.

* * *

A/N: OH NOES IT'S MAL AND DOM NUMBER 2  
just kidding haha. This _was _originally intended to be "questioning reality" angst, but somehow it turned into psuedo-fluff. But there's still an element of something being wrong, so I guess it's alright. Sorry, angst-lovers. I've failed you yet again. OTL

p.s., those of you who were wondering what the titles of the chapters mean; they're random lyrics from Edith Piaf's _Padam, Padam_. I really love that song and its lyrics, they're very well-written. Look it up if you ever have the time!

If you favourite/alert, please review! Thanks much!


	5. Je vois s'entrebattre des gestes

_I see the succession of gestures flash by_

_all the comedy of love_

_to this tune that keeps playing  
_**Padam Padam**

**Note**: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, 'Padam Padam' belongs to Edith Piaf

* * *

"Picture this; you're in a rustic little place, Paris's Notre Dame, perhaps, and—"

"Eames."

"—just gone out to lunch, had a lovely coffee at some dingy cafe, got the ring—"

"Shut up, Eames."

"—down on one knee and say those immortal words—"

"Eames, kindly stop talking."

The Brit clutched his hands to his chest wearing the most deadpan expression so clearly _Arthur _that only a Forger as talented as Eames could manage; "You're the girl of my dreams, Ariadne. Do be a dear and marry me before I bore myself to death."

Arthur crossed his arms, the very picture of unamused.

Eames blinked once in an almost genuine gesture of surprise. "What, you didn't like it?"

"Not at all." Arthur muttered in reply, "now, we have an important job to complete in two days and I need to return to my work, as do you." And, after a beat, added, "It was my mistake for clueing you in on my plans. Or, rather, letting you overhear my conversation with Cobb."

"I beg to differ! Your proposal will be much, much more romantic with _my_ help, darling, that I can assure you." Eames exclaimed in mock-offense, flopping back into his armchair with clipboard in hand. Arthur sent him a glare from his desk and reclined his seat onto its hind legs, hoping for the conversation to be over but knowing Eames, it would be far from it.

He guessed correctly.

"Okay, I've got another one, and I'm almost certain you'll love it."

Arthur placed two fingers to his temples and bent over his research. _Just count to ten, Arthur. Count to ten_.

_1, 2, 3_...

"Ariadne, I've dreamed of us together in a white, perfect, picket-fence-and-a-dog, most charmingly OCD house by the prairie ever since I set eyes on you..."

..._4...5._

"...and even though I'm going to drive you bonkers in approximately three months, would you care to marry me?"

_5_.

_Nope, can't make it to Six this time_.

"Eames, just because you were married for a half a month doesn't mean every relationship ends up that way."

The Forger paused for a moment before giving an offhanded scoff and folded his hands behind his head. "Oh, you wait, Arthur dear. You think it's fab living together like you do now, but having a ring on your finger _changes_ things."

A quiet pause. Arthur glanced up from his computer screen, drawing in a deep breath. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but what, pray tell, does it change?"

Eames's signature smirk returned as he slouched into his armchair; the Brit was fully satisfied with catching Arthur's attention and throwing it to the wind. "Well, for one, it leaves a nasty stain on your ring finger. But as you clearly don't want my input, I'll keep quiet on the rest and let you figure out the gory details for yourself."

Arthur's curiosity turned to frustration and he bent over his laptop with furrowed eyebrows. Despite his stern policy of never listening to Eames unless it was something work-related, the words had bothered him. Then again, everything Eames said tended to bother—

The Forger cleared his throat loudly enough to startle the Point Man out of his thoughts. "What, Eames." Arthur muttered from behind clenched teeth, typing an address into Google with far more intensity than required.

"Before you return to having the spontaneity of an old-age pensioner, may I make one last proposal suggestion? This one's quite good, see, because it has to take place in a crowded casino or else you won't get the whole effect..."

Arthur then decided he was never going to stay alone in the same room with Eames again.

And he was certainly _never_ going to turn to the Forger for marriage advice.

* * *

a/n: Oh, Eames, how I love him so. He's very fun to write, but I hope there's no OOC-ness because I certainly took liberties with his character.

I also want an excuse for Dom and/or Mal to pop up sometime or other...maybe a flashback? I might not do it, but I'm curious to see if you, my lovely readers/reviewers, would want me to write about them other than a vague reference.

Thanks much for the reviews/favourites/alerts. Please continue to give me your support! (HINT HINT REVIEW PLEASE haha)


	6. Des veuxtu en voilà par paquets

I see the succession of gestures flash by

all the comedy of love

to this tune that keeps playing  
**Padam Padam**

**Note**: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, 'Padam Padam' belongs to Edith Piaf

* * *

_This is it_, Arthur thought as his fingers brushed the exterior of a velvet box in his pocket, _this is the night_. The evening was planned to perfection. All traces of Eames's influence on the subject of the proposal had been nullified—Arthur had seen to that—and Cobb had already given his consent, being the closest thing Ariadne had to a father-figure after the death of her estranged stepfather.

The stage Arthur had set was perfect; Ariadne's favourite food at a quiet, intimate restaurant. By the end of the meal, he would have built up enough confidence to go onto one knee and say—

"Oh, there you are, Arthur! Geez, there's so many people in suits around this part of town...was I supposed to dress up?" Ariadne's sudden appearance interrupted his thoughts and he automatically shook his head to bring himself out of planning mode. With a quick glance he found she was dressed in her casual outfit—the trademark scarf, red jacket, jeans, t-shirt—but the words that came from his mouth stumbled truthfully; "You look lovely."

The Architect simply smiled and gestured to the restaurant's door. "Thanks, you too. Shall we?"

Arthur's heartbeat was growing rapidly faster. He nodded and took her hand, allowing himself to be led inside. The noise of the box clattering around in his pocket felt loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear so he only vaguely heard bits and pieces of what Ariadne was explaining to him; something about pizza and suits.

They took their seats. Arthur ordered a salad and Ariadne ordered pizza.

Being nervous was a feeling that Arthur found disliking intensely while experiencing for one of the first times; he couldn't stop himself from drumming his fingers on the tabletop, brushing back his hair, asking trivial questions. The questions were answered with ease by his table-partner, who seemed in utter bliss at the architectural beauty of the restaurant, and though Arthur would have normally been interested as well, the entire building seemed to be growing smaller by the second.

The food was delivered on time, which was a relief. Seven twenty-six o'clock. Another four minutes and he would ask. All he had to do was _ask_. Four simple words. He could do this.

How was it that he could face hundreds of armed projections and jump from skyscrapers but couldn't manage to calm down enough to say four words?

"Wow, this pizza is delicious. How's your salad?"

"It's good."

Ariadne glanced up from her meal, eyebrows raised at the flatness of his tone. She returned to her pizza with slightly less gusto as if something had crossed her mind. However, the moment was gone before Arthur could comment upon it.

He glanced down to his wristwatch. Time was up. Seven thirty. He drew in a deep breath, ready to say those four life-changing words—

"Hey, you know what? I think we should get married."

Time seemed to stop. That hadn't been his voice. He blinked.

"...What?"

Ariadne took a sip of water, looking perfectly nonchalant. "Yeah. It's just that I've been thinking...we've already been living together for so long that we're practically married anyway." She glanced up at Arthur's comatose face and frowned. "Look, I haven't got the best memories about the concept either, because there's my parents and there's Mal and Dom, but I feel like we could be different for some reason. I think we've both got our heads on straight."

A pause.

When Arthur didn't respond, the gravity of her words seemed to sink in and her tone hurried along, growing more flustered as she went; "Not to say Dom and Mal didn't! They definitely were smart and everything, they just were in a bad situation and I'm not trying to defend the inception he did on her because that kind of ruined things, but that's not the point—we don't have to if you don't want to. I won't break up with you or yell at you because now that I think about it the whole idea is kind of—"

He leaned across the table and quieted her with a kiss. When he drew away his tie was covered in salad dressing but he had never been happier in his life. "If you must know, I was just about to ask the same thing." The Point Man said as he half-smiled and placed his clammy hand over hers, "So, yes. I'll marry you."

Ariadne's face lit up for a second before darkening with embarrassment. "Oh, uh...I'm sorry I ruined your proposal. You probably had it planned out down to the second and I just went off and..." The Architect muttered, picking at her scarf. "I guess this makes me the worst girlfriend ever."

Arthur shook his head and drew the back of her hand to his lips. "Not at all. Well, yes, I did plan it out rather...obsessively," He had to smile at using Eames's choice of words, "but you said it better than I could've." His smile grew to a grin as she gave a weak chuckle. "Besides, you saying yes...that made up for it." Ariadne went red again, mumbling some kind of apology though she was barely fighting off the beginning of a smile. Arthur laughed. The tension from earlier had left him in euphoria, a burst of happiness stronger than anything he had felt in his entire—

"Ooh, I just might swoon! Mmm, and what lovely choice of pizza. It really is quite good here, don't you agree?" The tension returned tenfold with the appearance of none other than Eames at his table, wiping his hands clean of pizza grease on his pinstripe suit. Ariadne blinked, sputtering incredulously before managing coherent words. "How long have you been there, Eames?"

"Long enough to see your grippingly romantic proposal...and I must say, darling, you certainly have a way with words." The Brit snickered as he reached to steal a few croutons from Arthur's plate, though he was sharply smacked away and glared down.

"Eames, is the concept of privacy completely foreign to you?"

Eames merely shrugged and took to leaning on the back of Ariadne's chair; the Architect was too flustered to be angry. "You mustn't be cross with me, Arthur. After all, I've come to do you a favor. You see that man over there?" He inclined his head subtly at a lone businessman across the room, his tone dropping to a low murmur, "That would be our good old friend from Cobol Engineering. I'd say someone's a little bitter at having their empire take a big economic hit, wouldn't you? Awfully stubborn bugger, too, to travel all the way to France to sniff you out." Arthur drew in a sharp breath and tore his eyes away from staring, scraping at the remains of his salad in a futile attempt to appear unruffled. Ariadne glanced between the two men with raised eyebrows before catching on to the casual act.

"Yes, I remember him. Now what?" The Point Man responded quietly as Eames's Cheshire smile grew slightly larger. "We cause a little diversion...but that's already been taken care of, so no need to worry your pretty little heads. Up you get." The Forger chuckled, simultaneously taking Ariadne by the arm and stuffing the remainder of the pizza into his mouth; Arthur followed, glancing suspiciously from Cobol's hitman to Eames.

"And by diversion, what do you—"

A spontaneous parade of French waiters waltzed up to the Cobol businessman's table, birthday cake in tow, urging the neighbors to sing along. The suit, a burly man of around thirty who looked as if he hadn't so much as cracked a smile in ten years, was sufficiently flustered by the sudden change in atmosphere that the trio slipped by entirely unnoticed.

"So much for a romantic night out." Arthur muttered underneath his breath as they got into Eames's car, repressing the urge to glance over his shoulder multiple times. Ariadne squeezed his hand and gave a quiet chuckle. "Don't worry about it, Arthur. Remember, it's _exciting_!" The Architect said, elbowing her new fiancee jokingly in the side.

Eames laughed, his face concealed by the driver's seat. "I like your attitude, darling! Oh, and by the way...I hope you were planning your honeymoon for South America, because that's where we're headed." Arthur ignored him and took the opportunity to slip the ring onto Ariadne's finger.

The sense of warm, strange, overwhelming happiness returned when she accepted it with a kiss, and even Eames's jibes couldn't bring his spirits down.

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A/N: Haha, Ariadne wasn't kidding when she said she didn't know what it was like to be a lover. Poor Arthur.

One more chapter after this one, dear readers! And just for the record, it's disgustingly cliché. Or maybe not. Even so, my apologies, and thanks much for the feedback!


	7. Padam Padam

_I see the succession of gestures flash by_

_all the comedy of love_

_to this tune that keeps playing  
_**Padam Padam**

**Note**: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, 'Padam Padam' belongs to Edith Piaf

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"So now you think the best idea to handle this is to...? Okay. Okay, okay. Alr—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice. That was...uncalled for. Yeah. I apologize."

Arthur had slipped in the door without a care, though as soon as he heard Ariadne's voice floating from the living room—quiet and choppy, a rare tone for the young Architect and one almost always reserved for phone conversations—he was careful not to rustle the bags of groceries too much and disturb her. He set them down by the fridge and began unpacking, straining his ears to catch the words; a habit he had picked up in the business of Extraction and various other less-than-legal jobs.

Her words were beginning to hitch—with tears or with anger, Arthur couldn't tell. He set down a tin of olives and listened harder. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just...geez, there's no other way to say it. It wasn't planned, I can tell you that."

Her laughter following this statement was forced, Arthur noticed, and ended with a loud sniffle. His jaw clenched at the sound.

Several more sniffles before the one-sided conversation continued. Ariadne's footsteps paced predictably about the room as she always did when speaking on the phone, scuffing the carpet with her foot when she came to a stop.

"No, I'm not, it's...my allergies acting up." A pause. The sound of a Kleenex being snatched from its box. "Yeah, or hormones, but no need to be such a sarcastic f—sorry. Look, I didn't mean it, Mr. Klein. I really didn't."

_Mr. Klein, owner of Starkermann Nanotech Industries and their most recent employer_. _What could he possibly be calling about on the home phone? _Arthur thought, stepping quietly through their apartment to lean just outside the living room. Ariadne passed by the doorway, too preoccupied with her conversation to notice. She paced back and forth before finally stopping by the window to let out a trembling sigh.

"I can teach the designs to Arthur, and he'll teach them to the rest of the team. He's an amazing Point Man, Mr. Klein. He'll remember every detail, and with Eames as our Extractor—" The Architect's mouth froze mid-syllable, waiting for Mr. Klein to continue before beginning again, "I can't go under, Mr. Klein, not even briefly. I can't. The sedative could really be dangerous for..." Ariadne's voice trailed off into silence as Mr. Klein interrupted, his voice nearly audible from where Arthur stood.

Another long moment of silence. Ariadne's hand went to smooth down the front of her sweater several times. She suddenly spoke, rushing her words now; "No, no, no; Arthur is still perfectly capable, so don't kick him off the Team. This isn't just an excuse to drop the job, Mr. Klein—I can assure you that I wouldn't stop Dreaming unless I had to, and now I guess I do, for a while. But Arthur—he loves Dreaming, don't take that away from him because of a...mistake I made."

Something caught in Arthur's throat with that sentence and suddenly the entire conversation, the reason for Ariadne's retirement, and her behavior over the past two months became clear to him. He stepped noiselessly into the living room. Ariadne was still staring out the window, one hand poised over her abdomen and gripping the fabric of her sweater.

"_Danke_._ Danke_, Mr. Klein. I'm sorry for disappointing you. I'll give Arthur your rega—" Arthur felt Ariadne's gaze flicker to his reflection on the window and saw the stiffness climb up her spine. She drew in a deep breath and let her hand drop to her side, closing her eyes.

"I'll tell Arthur to drop by the workplace and give you the Level designs tomorrow. Goodbye, Mr. Klein. Thank you, Mr. Klein."

The Architect clicked the 'end' button and set the phone onto the coffee table.

"Why didn't you say anything to me earlier?"

Ariadne sniffed again, hastily wiping her nose with the Kleenex from before. Arthur stepped around to her side and frowned. "Ariadne?"

"Sorry." Ariadne's voice was tiny, almost whispered, and it crumbled any resolve Arthur had to be angry with her. He placed his hands in his pockets to refrain from reaching forward to embrace her and cleared his throat instead, trying to urge more information.

"I didn't know for sure. Not until last week." She continued in the same tone, looking smaller than Arthur had ever seen her. "And we got the job the other day with Starkermann, too, so I didn't want..." The Architect drew in a shuddering breath and rubbed at her neck, "...I didn't want to go under, because I remember Yusuf joking about it with me during the Fischer job, about Somnacin and it's side-effects on, um..."

"Mothers-to-be." Arthur supplied quietly. Ariadne nodded.

A long, tense minute passed between the Dreamers. The clock in the kitchen played out a little tune to signify twelve o' clock.

Ariadne shifted onto her other foot and fidgeted with her scarf, mumbling another apology; Arthur drew in a deep breath and pulled her into his arms. Seconds later, she was sniffing back tears again and pressing her face into the Point Man's chest. Her shoulders trembled. Arthur felt his heart twist with guilt. _This should be one of the best moments of my life and here I am, making it seem like some tragedy. Way to be the worst husband ever, Arthur._

"Hey, now, you don't need to apologize. It's okay. You're okay." He mumbled into her hair while Ariadne tentatively returned the embrace, mumbling yet another 'sorry' into his jacket. "It's okay." Was his only reply.

They stayed that way for what seemed like hours, simply standing in the middle of their living room. Surprisingly, Arthur was the first to break the silence; "You know what? This isn't a bad thing."

"But it's not a...good thing," Ariadne sniffled, dragging the back of her hand over her eyes.

"No." Arthur responded, continuing with a reassuring half-smile when Ariadne glanced up in question, "It's a great thing, Ariadne. It really is. Listen, this extraction should only take a month at most. It'll go perfectly if Eames doesn't screw it up as usual," Here the Architect gave a trembling laugh. "And I'll be home every chance I can get. Afterward, we'll go back to France and—"

"Everything will be okay." Ariadne finished for him, and Arthur felt the smile against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

"No. We'll be much better than okay."

And, oddly enough, they were.

_Listen to that crazy dance it insists I try,_

_As if my entire past marched on by,_

_Hold onto some sorrow, don't ask why_

_I share a whole bar in this song that starts_

_That beats like a wooden heart_

**Fin**_._

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A/N: I told you it was sappy. I never know how to tie stories up, so I substituted an actual ending with this. Sorry, everyone. OTL

Anyway, hoped you enjoyed. Please review to let me know what you think! Thanks again for all your lovely comments and favourites throughout. c:


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